After
by Moxxyy
Summary: Ginny isn't sure how to process everything that's happened in the past year, and she's even less sure how to understand the past 24 hours. Everything is a blur...except the few moments she manages to steal away with Harry. But is he the same man she kissed last August? Is she even the same girl? Post DH. H/G.
1. Chapter 1

The noon sun was high in the sky, but curtains kept out its blessed warmth in the little dormitory where Harry slept. He hadn't bothered to close the hangings around his sleeping frames, and remnants of a hastily eaten meal sat on the little nightstand next to him. His glass were crooked on his face, and his trainers, though already off his feet, had been left discarded at the foot of the bed.

Ginny hadn't meant to climb upstairs to the boys' dormitory, but that's where her feet led her. Her brain felt blissfully blank, though foggy, like a dark cloud had settled over it. She knew why she felt this way. The aching hole in her chest, the place closest to her heart, had stopped throbbing as exhaustion took over and her mother urged her to go upstairs and sleep with the promise that she herself would follow soon, once everyone else had been prodded to do the same. And that was why when Ginny's shaky legs led her up these stairs, and not her own to the girls' rooms, she did not object.

She watched him sleep now, his chest rising and falling with little inconsistence, his fingers twitching every few seconds. She supposed she had just wanted to check up on him, though with a lurch she realized, I just want to check he's still alive. It wasn't a dream. He didn't really die.

But had he died? Had he gone and come back? Had his heart stopped beating, unlike hers, which pounded harder and harder next to that gaping hole that had been punched out when Fred died?

Her chest contracted, and, trembling, she walked through the dark dormitory towards his bed. They were the only ones in there, in the quiet early afternoon. She could hear birds singing songs outside, oblivious to the pain inside the castle. She knelt beside Harry's sleeping form and gently pressed her hand to his chest. It was like a shock of lightning to her fragile frame, to finally reach out and hold some part of his living body. He did not stir, though he was warm, and she could feel his heartbeat beneath his shirt, pounding gently away.

The electric shock subsided and Ginny breathed a sigh of relief. Her face melted into a small smile as the ache in her throat grew, though no tears fell. He's alive, she thought blissfully. She stayed like that, crouched awkwardly on the floor, her hand gripping the neck hole of his T-shirt. After some time she pulled his glasses off and set them tenderly aside. She removed his shoes from the bed as well, and brushed the crumbs off the blanket and onto the floor.

The same feeling that had brought her to his dormitory took over once more and she gingerly climbed onto the bed and lay beside him. The mattress creaked as she partially closed the curtains and settled onto her left side, facing him, with inches separating their bodies. Though her body was tired, her eyes remained wide open. Watching, waiting.

They had just begun to flutter shut when he finally moved. Wordlessly he rolled over to his side and looked directly at her. The green eyes were piercing on the innocent brown. Ginny did not break contact, but stared back.

He reached out his hand and gripped hers. The hole near her heart seemed forgotten for a moment, and she squeezed his hand back. She thought she saw the corners of his eyes grow wet, but she pulled him close to her, and it was with him breathing warmly into her neck, alive and well and with her, that she drifted off into a delicate sleep.

It was nearly pitch black dark when Ginny awoke next. She groggily stretched her body and nearly toppled off the narrow bed, letting a few swear words slip out of her dry throat in the process. Untangling herself from the curtains, she remembered where she was.

With a jolt she realized Harry was no longer lying next to her, but sitting up, facing the empty dormitory. He was hunched over, one hand rubbing the back of his neck. His hair was so long, it went down to his collar in a messy tangle of jet-black tufts. She longed to run her fingers through it, as he did several times in an attempt to straighten it.

"Hey you," she said softly, her voice croakier than she had intended. _Damn_.

He turned and looked at her. He didn't smile. Neither did she.

"Hey you," he repeated. His body jerked awkwardly, like he wanted to reach out and touch her but thought better of it. He covered it up by running his hand over the back of his neck again. _Just grab me, it's okay!_

He grunted and added quietly. "Ginny, I -"

"It's okay," she interrupted. The hole near her heart was threatening to throb again. "We can talk about it later. Everything. I just want to be here with you." Her throat burned and she reached out and ran her hand up and down his arm. "That is, if you want me here."

"Yes, I do. We don't have to talk just yet. Just stay."

"Of course I will." She breathed a sigh of relief. She had been ready to scream if he said he wanted her to leave. Tears burned in her eyes but she refused to blink. _Oh Merlin, not here. Don't cry now._ She shook her long hair and coughed, then checked her watch. "It's nearly midnight."

Harry rubbed his eyes. "I've been asleep a while."

"So have I."

"How's - how's your mum? And your dad?"

"They've seen better days."

"I'm sorry," said Harry miserably. "Remus, and Tonks, and Fred -"

She started involuntarily at the mention of Fred's name. He shook his head like a dog and stood up abruptly, swaying a little before grabbing the top of his four poster bed and leaning over.

"I'm just gonna wash up," he said to the floor, and he disappeared into the darkness.

Anger flared inside Ginny, though she was not quite sure why. She followed him into the boys' bathroom where he had turned on the water tap to the shower and leaned now against the cool tiles. One hand rested on the wall while the other held his face. She tugged briefly on his arm and pulled it away easily. She expected him to beg for forgiveness, to scream that their deaths were his fault, to lose control and push her away - and suddenly, as pain and remembering came back in a rush, she realized she wanted to fight, she wanted to scream, she wanted to argue and bicker and punch him for leaving her and playing the hero to everyone but herself -

"I'm so happy you're alive," he whispered hoarsely, tears dripping down his dirty face. "What if I'd lost you too? What if -"

The anger melted away and Ginny reacted without thought. She pressed her lips on his and he responded greedily, hungrily, and she savored the moment because this Harry would not last forever. He was always so selfless, rarely so open about how he really felt, and she allowed him to indulge on the emotion, because she needed it just as much as he did - the consolation that the other was alive, the feel of warm skin against their own, the acceptance that the fear had been real and mutual and now it was over. His grief would return, as would her anger, and the guilt she knew he truly felt would not be forgotten later. But for now, they only existed for each other. The months she had spent in desolation and anger could be dealt with later.

The water splashed down onto the floor and steam rose in spirals around them. His hand on her waist finally slackened and he wiped the tears clumsily from his eyes. He cupped her cheek in his palm and frowned.

"I thought you'd be angry."

Bingo. "I am," she said loudly, and then she added, much softer, "but maybe I'm not. I don't know anymore." She swallowed. "I'm hurt. In so many different ways. But I'm happy too."

Tears fell down her face and soaked into his hand. She combed her fingers through her knotted hair and tried a smile. It felt wrong on her face, like it did not belong there, and that brought on a new wave of dreaded tears. Harry pulled her into a hug and she cried into his chest as the sound of the water muffling her sobs so no one, maybe not even Harry, could hear them. Even the steam seemed to make her vision cloudy and cloak her in an impenetrable cocoon where no one could see her hurt. He was remarkably warm and familiar, though it felt like decades had passed since they last touched, not just one year. She could faintly hear him crying too, gripping her tightly as they stood there in the muggy bathroom.

Ginny could have gladly stayed there forever but she eventually pulled herself away. The tears had stopped, and she felt empty without them. The gaping hole near her heart felt drained and empty too. She could feel his eyes on him as she played with the collar of his shirt and, with unexpected forcefulness, she pulled his T-shirt over his head and gasped.

He was skinnier than he had been a year ago, and he sported a new, dark, oval-shaped scar right on his heart. She touched it with her fingertips and her lips trembled.

"What is this?" she asked, afraid of the answer.

"New scar, from the locket Voldemort turned into a Horcrux."

"I don't really know what a Horcrux is."

"Voldemort split his soul into seven pieces and hid them in different objects," he said quietly. "Eight, actually. I was one of them."

Ginny looked up into his face inquiringly. "Was?"

"Was," he repeated firmly. "I thought I was going to die last night. I thought I'd never see you again."

Her hand contracted on his chest and pain flared in her throat again. "I thought you had really left us - left me."

"Can you forgive me?"

She didn't answer. She smoothed down his shoulders and ran her hands along his arms. There was faint scarring on his forearm and she stopped again.

"Christmas Eve. The snake," he supplied.

She shuddered. She felt his fingertips along her arm lift up the sleeve of her shirt over her shoulder. Bruises colored her skin in black and green clouds.

"Got shoved. Hit the wall and fell on my side." She turned around and pulled her long hair aside to reveal the back of her neck, and then added, "Got into a fight with some Slytherins in February. It used to cover my whole back, it's almost all healed now. I couldn't show Mum and have her fix it, I didn't want her to know and get upset."

"You shouldn't hide your scars," he growled unexpectedly, pulling her shirt roughly aside to see the extent of the damage. "Who did this to you?"

"It doesn't matter now, does it?" she replied, a little heated too. Clearly she should not have shown him either.

"Of course it does! Who did this to you?" he repeated threateningly.

"There's no need to yell at me," she said, pulling back and eyeing him warily. "And you're one to talk, hiding your scars and all." She brushed away his bangs, which were long and covered the thin scar on his forehead.

"Well, I'm working on it," said Harry shortly, turning back to the shower and removing his glasses. "Who was it?" he said for a third time, facing her with a pained expression on her face.

Ginny frowned. "You don't need to protect me anymore. It's over."

"Fine, I don't have to know," Harry conceded. He tried to take off his jeans but doubled over in pain. Ginny caught him by the shoulders and helped him lean against the wall.

"Where does it hurt?" she said calmly while he gasped in pain.

"My ribs, I think," he said breathlessly. "Wasn't - too bad until n-now..."

"We should get you to Madam Pomfrey. Or maybe I can have her come up here."

"Kreacher," Harry wheezed, standing up straight again. "I can call for him. He'll do it."

Ginny wrinkled her nose. "What, are you and him best pals now?"

"Actually, yes," Harry groaned uncomfortably as Ginny supported him while he finished undressing. "Well, isn't this romantic," he couldn't seem to help adding, flashing a cheeky little smile at her as she pulled off his grimy socks.

"Don't get too excited," Ginny replied. All thoughts of passion and romance had evaporated as soon as she had seen his morbid scars, his anger at her own, and his inability to even stand up straight anymore. She suddenly felt exposed with his eyes on her tear-stained face and blotchy cheeks. "Do you need me to stay with you?"

"No, I'm okay," he said grudgingly, gingerly straightening up while clutching his ribs. "Don't worry about me."

Ginny snorted. "Like that'll ever happen," but she doubted he heard her voice over the heavy pounding of the still falling water.


	2. Chapter 2

"Have more eggs, Ginny," said Molly, dropping another serving next the single piece of bacon and lonely kipper Ginny had carelessly selected.

"I'm not hungry, Mum," Ginny replied, sipping her tea delicately. Next to her, Hermione drained her coffee in one and helped herself to seconds of everything. It was quite unusual, as was Ron, whose plate was just as empty as his sister's.

"Come on, Ron," said Hermione as she wiped her mouth with a napkin. She nudged his shoulder with hers. "It's as good as always, just have a bit more." She poured more pumpkin juice into his cup.

Ron took a sip, humoring her, but returned to solemnly stirring his porridge without eating it.

Arthur sat across from Ginny, steadily eating his food though not noticing that he spread butter on his bacon or poured milk into his juice. Percy replaced his cup with a new one when he wasn't looking.

Fleur was talking quietly to Bill on Hermione's other side. Mrs. Weasley, finally satisfied with the breakfast on everyone's plates, dropped next to her husband and surveyed her family.

"Where is George?" she said sharply. "And Harry?"

"George is still sleeping," said Percy. "I told him if he wasn't here in half an hour I was coming back up to get him."

"And Harry?" Mrs. Weasley repeated.

Everyone looked at Ron and Hermione, who looked at Ginny, who flushed scarlet.

"I don't know," she said loftily. "I didn't realize it was my job to keep tabs on him."

"Oh come on, Ginny," Ron snorted, coming back to life a little and draining his goblet. "We all know where you slept last night."

"No, we don't," said Mr. Weasley slowly, turning on Ginny.

"Ginny," Mrs. Weasley began warningly.

Mercifully, the start of an interrogation was immediately stopped by the sudden appearance of George. Everyone froze as he squeezed in between Ron and Hermione, pulled every dish towards himself, and began to quietly eat.

"Good morning, George, dear," said Molly, hastily pouring him a cup of coffee. "I was worried we wouldn't see you this early. Did you get enough rest?"

He shrugged. He chewed awkwardly, like he was trying not to be sick. Ginny turned her attention back to her plate, contemplated a moment, and then began eating.

"I was thinking we could head home today," Molly went on, "now that everyone's a little more rested. It'll be nice to have everyone together, after being apart for so long."

George shrugged again.

"Hermione, you'll be coming back to the Burrow with us, then?" asked Molly.

"If it's okay with you," said Hermione, leaning across George, who took no notice she was even there.

"Of course," said Molly, smiling somewhat warmly at her. "So we can put you with Ginny again, and once we find Harry we'll put him up with Ron -"

"When's the funeral?" George interrupted.

Everyone froze. George wasn't looking anywhere in particularly, just gazing quietly at his plate. Arthur's face fell into his hands.

"Wednesday morning," said Bill at last. "We've already started making arrangements."

Without another word, George stood up and left the table. Percy instantly followed. Ginny quickly stood as well and joined her parents on the opposite side of the table where she enveloped her mother in a warm hug.

"I'm so worried about him," said Molly shakily into Ginny's sweater while she stroked her mother's hair.

"I know," was all she said back.

"Am I interrupting anything?"

For the third time that meal everyone started as their attention was diverted on the latest newcomer. Harry stood at the table, looking nervous in a clean pair of jeans and sweatshirt. Ginny's grip on her mother slackened.

"No, of course not Harry!" said Mrs. Weasley promptly, wiping her eyes on her sleeves. "Sit, eat."

He took Ginny's vacant spot, his eyes on her, and she felt her cheeks redden. Ugh, am I blushing? When's the last time Harry Potter made me blush?

Ginny's thoughts instantly strayed to last night. It had been so long since she had been that close to him, felt his protective arms wrap around her, lean her head into his chest and just exist in the best place on earth. They had fallen asleep wrapped around each other in his dormitory again shortly after midnight and she snuck out around six to slip into her own bed, but, unable to sleep again, she spent the early morning hours wandering the castle, not quite knowing where to go or what to do. She kept picturing his bright green eyes in the darkness, looking nowhere but at her. She felt naked under those eyes, like he could see straight into her heart and know whether it was hurting or happy. It simultaneously thrilled her and startled her.

He hungrily finished the food on Ginny's plate and helped himself to more. Their section of the tabled dissolved back into quiet eating. Ginny situated herself in between her mother and father, propped her elbows on the table and rested her chin on her hands.

"You've barely eating, Ginny," said Molly as she spread jam on Arthur's toast for him.

Ginny plucked a piece off the serving plate, took a bite, and dropped it back down. Molly sighed.

"What time are we leaving?" Ginny asked as she got to her feet.

"Within the hour," her mother answered. "Do you need helping gathering the rest of your things?"

"No, I'll be fine."

Ginny dragged her trunk to the Entrance Hall after bewitching it to become feather-light. She had left it at school when she went home for the Easter holidays and never returned until now.

She twisted her hair into a knot at the base of her neck and her fingertips grazed the gruesome scar that stretched from her neck to her waist. She hadn't looked at it in several months, so maybe it didn't look as healed as she thought. She hadn't told anyone about it if she could help it, and she didn't really understand why she had volunteered the information so easily to Harry last night. He didn't need more on his plate. Her hands dropped to her sides and her hair fell in long sweeps.

The castle felt cold all of a sudden. It felt too big, too broken, a stranger she didn't want to know. Someone had cleaned up the blood of the flagstones but no one could clean up the ugly bruises and scars that covered Ginny's body. They went more than skin deep.

She felt like a sleepwalker, drifting out the front doors and onto the grounds. There were people there, cleaning up the mess, talking in low, and quiet voices or else not at all. Ginny supposed she ought to stay and help too, but Fred needed to be buried. Her parents needed her home now more than ever.

Her mind drifted away as she looked out over the lake, cool and rippling in the early morning sun.

* * *

"It's getting dark, almost curfew," said Harry, pulling on Ginny's hands but she stayed rooted to the ground where she sat watching the lake.

"Oh, are you a prefect now or something?" Ginny laughed, tugging him back to the lake. The sun was still high enough to send golden ripples across its dark surface. "I didn't know you loved rules so much, Mr. Prefect! Is that what you're doing every Saturday morning, following rules where lawbreakers like me aren't allowed?"

"You think you're cheeky, don't you?" Harry finally pulled her up off the grass where they had been sitting near the lake. It was one of their favorite places to go as they wandered around the grounds, though lately they had less and less time together to explore. Ginny had exams, and Harry had detentions with Snape. Ginny liked to throw scraps of bread in for the giant squid, and Harry liked the privacy the hill and row of trees provided them from the other students.

She shrieked as she flew off the ground and they stumbled over the uneven grass and toppled to the floor again.

"Come on, I'm not having Hermione yell at me again because I'm cutting into your study time," said Harry as Ginny pinned him to the earth. "Or Snape, who would do anything to put me in more detentions for staying out past dark."

"I think Hermione's got someone else pushing her to scold you," said Ginny thoughtfully, relaxing for a moment too long as Harry took advantage of her distraction and scooped her up into his arms. She was small and laughing and he peppered her face with kisses as he charged up the hill towards the castle.

"No you don't!" Ginny screamed playfully, and though she was tiny she managed to tangle herself in his robes.

"Maybe Ron should keep a better hold on you," said Harry with difficulty as Ginny fell from his grip and pranced off to the lake again. He chased after her and caught her around the waist.

"I'm not ready to leave yet," she said, leaning her back into her chest as she watched the soft waves. "Just give me a few moments. Just let me have this right now."

"And what do I get?"

Ginny turned around and placed her hands on Harry's shoulders. Her stomach swooped and she smiled radiantly at him, then brushed a few twigs from his untidy hair.

"You get me," she said, standing on tip toe and kissing him gently.

* * *

Harry dropped Ginny's trunk at the foot of her bed at the Burrow. He looked ancient - his face was lined with exhaustion, dark circles under his tired eyes, and he rubbed his chest absent-mindedly.

"Someone else could have done that," she pointed out. "I could have done it myself, too."

"It's not a problem."

"What did Madam Pomfrey say about your chest pains?"

"Nothing," said Harry, turning to leave, "I didn't go see her."

Ginny went up to him and gently rubbed his back, leading him out the door. "Why don't you go rest?"

He nodded and trooped up the stairs to Ron's bedroom, leaving Ginny standing alone on the landing. She could hear hushed voices down in the kitchen, her mother and father and Bill discussing funeral plans. She could hear Percy in his bedroom, arguing with George. The thin walls muffled his sobs and she heard a loud bang.

Without warning, Percy's door flew open and George ran out, clutching his bloody fist in one hand and swearing loudly. He shouldered past Ginny and disappeared down the stairs.

"George!" came Molly's voice, and Arthur yelled, "George, come back!"

Ron and Percy came running down the stairs after him. The back door in the kitchen slammed as they ran after George, and Ginny could hear their voices shouting in the garden.

"Oh Arthur," said Molly, and Ginny knew she was crying.

"It'll be all right, Molly," said Arthur, and there was the sound of scraping chairs as they moved towards each other. Ginny knew they were holding each other in the tiny kitchen, crying over their lost son and the remaining ones scattered in the backyard.

Ginny pressed her hand to her mouth to stifle the cry she wasn't sure was coming or not. She sank to the floor and held her face in her hands, part of her wanting to go outside and run after George, the other part wanting to go down and be with her parents, and still another part wanting to run in the opposite direction away from everything.

She was vaguely aware of Harry sitting next to her on the step. The Burrow felt cold and uninviting now, just as the castle had only hours earlier. Fred had lived here. And now he didn't. Now he lived in a box that would soon go underground forever and no one would ever see him smile, hear his laugh, feel his heartbeat ever again.

"Will he be okay?" Ginny asked faintly, not looking at Harry, who shrugged.

"One day, yes."

"What about you?"

"One day. After all this."

"After," Ginny echoed. "I thought it was all over already."

"It's just the beginning," said Harry. "Funerals. Memorials. Rebuilding everything that was lost. I hope you don't mind me living here for the time being."

"No," said Ginny, leaning into him. "Just promise me something."

"What?"

Ginny looked up into his face and she felt sorry for him as she said, "You won't leave me again, like you did before. Ever again, okay?"

"I can't promise that," said Harry slowly. "But I can promise I will always come back, wherever I go. I will always come back after."

"After," sighed Ginny again. It would have to do for now.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"What were you thinking?" shrieked Molly. "Stunning your brother? You are out of control!"

"He deserved it!" Ron snarled, wiping his bloody lip on his sleeve while Hermione attempted to hold an ice pack to his head. "He's the one out of control, not me! Look at the state I'm in!"

"The state you're in?" Molly screamed. "You should be cutting George some slack -"

"Fred was my brother too," said Ron harshly, and that tense silence that had become a custom among the Weasleys filled the room once more.

All of the Weasley boys looked a little worse for wear. When four of his brothers chased after him through the garden, he shot hexes at random to stop them from following him. He hit Bill and several gnomes before Percy disarmed him, and then Ron tackled him as he sprinted towards the grate at which point George resorted to his fists. That was when Ron stunned him.

"Mum, you can't keep him caged up like this. If he wants to leave, let him leave," said Ginny.

"I agree," said Bill from the sofa. His blistered skin was slowly returning to normal as the hex wore off, but he looked irritated nonetheless. "He needs his space. We can't force him to stay here. I'm not fighting him again like that."

"It was my fault," said Percy miserably, "I was hovering too much, I was following his every move, then he shouted at me for a bit, punched the wall and bolted."

"Only because I told you to keep an eye on him!" said Molly hotly, though she looked close to tears again. Ginny cut in quickly.

"Why don't we just put him in his bed, unstun him, and let him leave on his own terms," said Ginny, looking to her father for support.

"She's right, Molly," sighed Arthur. "We obviously can't protect him."

_Like we couldn't protect Fred either_. The unspoken words hung in the air. Percy and Bill carried George up to his room and the rest of the family plus Harry and Hermione stood around awkwardly. Ron's lipped stopped bleeding but he still silently fumed from where he sat. Hermione looked around nervously, not saying anything. Harry wiped his glasses on his T-shirt. Fleur was chewing her nails, something no one had ever seen her do before. There was the sound of voices upstairs, then a large crack.

"He Disapparated," said Bill as they trooped down the stairs. "Should have done that in the first place."

"Well, I don't want you boys fighting again anytime soon!" said Molly, turning back to the kitchen.

"Let me make you some tea, Mrs. Weasley," said Hermione, hurrying after her. The sitting room emptied and then it was just Harry, Ron, and Ginny. Ron wasn't paying any attention to them; he looked very much like he wanted to be alone. Ginny locked eyes with Harry. She stood up and made her way to her room. A minute later Harry followed. He checked behind him before quietly closing the door and facing her.

* * *

"Does it hurt?" Ginny asked, pressing a wet towel to Harry's face.

"No," Harry said automatically, but he winced and let out a sharp breath as she wiped the blood from his face. "You don't have to do that."

The common room had finally emptied, and that was where Ginny met Harry in the early hours of the morning. The fire was almost out, and the lights were low, and the grounds were quiet.

"I don't," Ginny agreed, continuing to clean his bruised and bloody face. "But I want to. Just let me take care of you this once."

"They're talking about having the funeral here," said Harry.

"That seems like the right thing to do. It's what he would have wanted."

"I've never been to a funeral before."

"They're not exactly fun."

"I wouldn't think so - ouch!" Harry exclaimed as Ginny started cleaning the cuts on his face.

"It will be over soon," said Ginny absent-mindedly. She finished rubbing the cleaning paste over the cuts and scratches on his face. His nose was bruised but not broken, and all the blood was finally cleaned away. Still, he somehow looked worse now, sitting sadly in the dim light and his face covered in the thick green healing potion. It would clean and heal his wounds very slowly, but it was easier than casting a spell. It was almost comical, and though her heart had ached all night for Dumbledore's life and Bill's face, for whom healing paste would not work, she couldn't help but giggle.

Harry looked at her curiously as she covered her mouth to stop more laughter. "I don't get it."

"No," said Ginny, smoothing down his hair; it stuck straight up again, "neither do I. I'm just glad you're okay." She swallowed. "What were you even doing with Dumbledore before it - you know, happened?"

Harry looked away, and she knew the answer before he told her. "I can't tell you, Ginny." He looked pained. "Maybe one day I can. But not now, there's too much risk, too much at stake. I could never put you in harm's way." He faltered, like he was about to say more. But he didn't. He didn't say anything more until Dumbledore's funeral, and then after that he didn't say anything at all.

* * *

Ginny sat on her bed. Harry sat next to her. He picked up her hand and studied her palm, her fingers, her knuckles.

"Tell me what happened," said Ginny. "Tell me what happened after Bill's wedding. Where did you go? What were you doing?"

Maybe one day he would love her freely again instead of this rocky, push and pull, back and forth nonsense he was playing with her. Holding her while she cried. Rubbing her back until she fell asleep. Ignoring her at breakfast. Avoiding catching her eye when her family was around. Standing up now and pacing her small room while she sat impatiently behind him. Always behind.

Maybe one day he would be less fragile. How could he be so strong and yet so fragile at the same time? Maybe one day he would be ready to share his secrets all at once, rather than bit by bit, just like one day George would accept that Fred was gone. Maybe Harry needed more than two days to rest from a year of running or fighting or whatever it was he was really doing all that time.

Maybe one day they would be married, with children and grandchildren and she would look at him and know that she knew all his secrets, all his fears and hopes and dreams. But today he was just a 17-year-old boy, and she was just an even younger girl, and though so much had happened in only three days, he still carried the weight of the world on his shoulders and she didn't know when he would let it down.

Harry turned and faced her now. "There's so much. Too much." He shook his head. "I don't know, Ginny, I don't know if today is the right day."

That night, Ginny didn't sleep.

Warm sun had drenched her bedroom in the daytime, but now cool moonlight drifted in and settled in a chill over her body. Her skin was milky white and covered with goose bumps. She rubbed her arms but didn't pull her blanket up. She hadn't slept in her bed since the Easter holidays, having gone straight to Aunt Muriel's when after months of wondering, they finally heard word of Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

Ginny sat up in bed. She didn't want to think about that right now. She didn't want to remember Bill's Patronus flitting into the sitting room - _"Harry, Ron, Hermione here; all safe; family needs to leave Burrow immediately"_ - the mad shuffle to grab anything in reach before walking away and not knowing when they would return.

Something out in the orchard below caught her eye. A pale, smoky-white face was looking back at her from beneath the trees.

Startled, Ginny blinked and looked closer. It had disappeared. Maybe it was just the moonlight playing tricks on her eyes. Nonetheless, she was unnerved.

"Hermione?" Ginny called out in the darkness.

There was a pause, and then -

"Yes?" Hermione whispered back from her camp bed.

"When are you leaving?"

"Friday morning. Once all the funerals are over." She was heading to Australia to find her parents. Ginny felt a mad desire to join her, but knew Hermione, and Molly too, would never let her.

"I guess Ron will go with you," sighed Ginny, settling back into her pillows now that Hermione's wakeful presence comforted her slightly.

"He did say he wanted to. I would rather he come than go by myself."

"So are you two finally together?"

Ginny knew Hermione was smiling to herself as she answered, "Not officially, no, but essentially, yes. Things are so different now. Did I tell you I kissed him?"

"No!" Ginny propped herself up on her elbow to look at Hermione's moonlit figure. "Well, I mean, of course it would be you to make the first move, not him."

"You really thought that?" said Hermione, turning towards Ginny and definitely grinning. "Well, it was the night we got to Hogwarts, the night of the Battle. He was so sweet, he was worried about the house-elves in the kitchens and asking if we should evacuate them - and it just hit me, I know it sounds silly but my heart literally - swooped - and I just kissed him."

"Wow," said Ginny. "Well, congratulations. That one's been a long one coming."

"I know, right? He's been positively a new person these past couple of months, after being absolutely dreadful for the first few. I thought I would never forgive him for the way he treated me and Harry last fall. But he had such a change of heart - I mean, he's still the same Ron, but he's growing up, Ginny."

"Thank goodness," said Ginny, watching Hermione's eyes glow as she gazed dreamily out the window. She silently absorbed the little clues Hermione had let slip - Ron was horrible to Hermione and Harry? "What did Ron do that was so awful, if you don't mind me asking?"

"He just struggled with living on the run. It's not easy for anyone, especially him." She lowered her voice as she asked casually, "Have you talked to Harry yet?"

"About what?" said Ginny, feeling her heart drop. Definitely not a swoop.

"You know. Anything."

"No," said Ginny, trying to keep the sadness out of her voice. "I mean, I did talk to him a little that night I slept in his dormitory. I kissed him."

"Really?"

"Yeah," said Ginny, and she had a small moment of happiness as she recalled those short-lived moments that only occurred last night. "But we agreed not to talk about anything just yet. He did show me the locket scar on his chest, and the ones from the snake on his arm. But then today he didn't want to talk about it still. I don't want to be left in the dark like this."

"Oh," said Hermione. "Ginny, you know Harry's been through a lot. And I couldn't even begin to tell you everything we've been through this past year, because I didn't live it through Harry's eyes. Yes, Ron was downright unbearable. And then he changed. He grew up, and he and I knew the other was safe and we had each other. But Harry didn't have you. You know how he is...he started to drift away from us these last couple months. It isn't because we shut him out, but he was so absorbed in his thoughts and his nightmares and we just couldn't relate. I know he spent nights looking at the Marauders Map in his bed, and I don't think he was spying on Slytherins. I think he was looking for you. He needs you, he loves you."

The quietness of the night pressed in on them. The loneliness that had gripped Ginny seemed to lessen. Maybe Harry was lying awake in his bed now too, maybe talking to Ron, maybe just alone in his thoughts. That was what had always connected the two of them - they both knew what it was like to be alone, on the bottom, taken advantage of, shut out, lied to. Of course, his struggles were infinitely worse than hers. But it still connected them.

"You're right," said Ginny, turning over. "I hope you are, at least."

"I know I am."

"Know-it-all," said Ginny, and they both giggled into their pillows and said no more.

Ginny planned on avoiding Harry as much as she could the next day. Maybe he wanted space, like George, who had returned shortly after dinner, bolted down a few bites, and then shut himself up in Charlie's room. He had not left the room since. Charlie arrived from Romania in the middle of breakfast. Molly cried into his shirt for a while before Arthur peeled her off their son and embraced him tightly. Ginny leapt up into his arms and felt her own eyes burn as he squeezed her tightly.

"Where is he?" said Charlie, looking around at all of them crammed into the kitchen.

"In your room," said Ron. "Watch out for his right hook."

"What?" said Charlie, looking confused.

"He was angry that we took him into his and - and Fred's room while he was, er, knocked out," said Percy. "So he slept in your room last night."

As Charlie headed upstairs to see George, Ginny wandered into the garden. It was wet and muggy out from a rain that had drifted in overnight. No doubt that was the cause of the weird face in the orchard last night. It was just mist. Nothing more. Still, Ginny pulled on a pair of Wellington boots from the shed and trooped through the mud to the orchard. It was cool and empty. No strange faces. Just trees and grass.

She picked a particularly knarled cherry blossom tree that had fresh little leaves and pink flowers, and started to climb. The bark scraped her arms and her legs were awkward in the overlarge boots, but the air was wonderfully fresh and cool and alive in her lungs. She climbed as high as she could and stood up, peeking over the leaves into the valley outwards. The sun glistened on the horizon, bright and yellow in the white hazy sky as it tried to burn off the last of the rain and wetness.

The perfume of the cherry blossoms filled the air and Ginny let it overtake her. Her chest ached and she took deep breaths to steady herself. She was surprised the tree still had flowers - usually by now they had all fallen to the ground.

Fred and George had taught her how to climb trees, when she was so small she needed a leg up just to get started. She could remember Bill hoisting her up as each of the twins grabbed one of her arms and pulled her from branch to branch. She had felt so wonderful, so brave, finally up amid the branches with Charlie and Ron while Fred and George flanked her, Bill waited at the bottom to catch her if need be, and Percy ran to snitch on her to their mother.

She had six brothers then. Did she only have five now?

The branch wobbled and she stumbled, crouching down on the heavy limb to steady herself. She hugged the trunk and began to cry in earnest. Fred was gone, and her family was lost, and Remus and Tonks and Colin were gone too but Ginny had been so absorbed in Harry and Fred she hadn't even spared the rest of her dead friends a thought. She felt selfish, conceited, worrying that Harry still loved her at night when Teddy was alone without parents and Dennis had lost a brother too. The pink blossoms blocked out the rest of the world as Ginny sobbed, and she could hear distant shouting from her house again, but she couldn't tell who it was or what was happening. If only Fred had lived, then everything would have been fine, and she felt selfish again for having the thought, though all she really wanted was her brother back to pull her to the top of the tree and fill the hole that was expanding again next to her heart and pushing everything out.

A door slammed. Ginny stopped crying immediately and wiped her eyes on her shirt. It was the door to the broom shed. She heard the grass rustle as whoever it was walked towards her tree. There was a rush of air - he mounted a broom - and then took off. She climbed again and peered over the top leaves, the gasped and almost toppled out again.

It was Harry, his hair wild in the morning air, hovering next to her tree and holding out a hand. She grabbed it and clambered on, then buried her face into his back as they took off. The air was cold and fast as onward they went, across the orchard and beyond the boundaries of the Burrow. She squeezed her arms around his middle and he put on a burst of speed as they soared onward.

This was freedom. This was an escape. She was moving far and fast and she had no control where she was going, no idea which direction they were even heading, and she didn't even care. She only looked out when they had started to slow down. They were at the top of Stoatshead Hill.

The air was hazy as the sun drew the dew and rain out of the wet grass. Trembling slightly, Ginny and Harry dismounted.

"I borrowed one of the brooms in there," said Harry, gesturing needlessly at the broomstick in his hand.

"Bill's. He didn't use it much," said Ginny. "It's actually mine now, he said I could officially have it when he moved to Shell Cottage."

"I lost mine the night I left Privet Drive."

"Well, then it can officially be yours. It's no Firebolt, but it gets the job done."

"Thanks." He shifted and looked purposefully at her. "Listen, Ginny, I'm sorry I didn't tell you everything that's been going on. It's just...a lot. It's overwhelming. I need a break from all of this."

"You're going to have to tell me eventually, if anything is supposed to work out between us," Ginny replied.

"I will. I promise." He reached out and pulled her waist towards his. "I was always thinking of you, every day I was gone."

"Were you?" asked Ginny, thinking of what Hermione had said last night.

"Of course. How could I forget you? Especially after that birthday kiss?" He grinned at her, and her stomach fluttered as she laughed.

"I might have another one saved up," she said, and it was his turn to laugh, "but you'll have to earn it."

"Isn't getting rid of Voldemort enough?"

"Maybe just this once, but you can't ever play this card again, okay?" she said, and she kissed him hard, putting all her emotion behind it. He let the broom fall to the ground as he enclosed her in his arms, and the happiness only he could bring her filled her heart.

It was some time later when they figured they might be missed at the Burrow. They mounted the broom once more and zoomed off into the morning air. Ginny smiled as she leaned into Harry once more; she hadn't thought of Fred, Remus, Tonks, Colin, or anyone else since he pulled her out into the air back at the cherry blossom tree. It was almost like living a normal life again. Almost.

They started to descend and Ginny looked around. They weren't at the broom shed yet, or even the orchard, which she could see off in the distance. They also weren't flying straight anymore. The Burrow was bouncing up and down on the horizon as the broom suddenly dipped and swerved.

"Harry!" Ginny shouted, squeezing him so tightly it hurt her knuckles. But Harry wasn't paying attention; he was holding his chest, gasping for air, his face screwed up in pain. Ginny tried to steer the broomstick from behind him, but before she could do much they dropped to the earth and skidded on the ground, rolling in the wet mud until with a final thud. Ginny thought she saw a pearly white face watching her as the tumbled to the ground but it was gone before she could be sure.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Thank you to everybody favoriting/following this story, especially my three reviewers! Thanks! It was really the encouragement I needed to keep writing. I made an effort to make Chapter 3 a little longer than the usual 2k, but normally I just stop writing when it feels complete and go right ahead to posting. I hope you're all liking the flashbacks and it's not too confusing, I kind of like that when it starts up, it's not quite obvious that it's a flashback because of the similarity to the situation. But that might just be my weird author perspective. Anyway, thanks again for sticking with me and happy reading.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Ginny lay panting on her stomach, breathing in the smell of wet grass and mud. She tried to move but every part of her ached, and her left ankle throbbed with every breath she took.

"Harry," she whimpered, and she hated the way her voice sounded. She pushed herself up to her elbows and grimaced. She seemed fine, except for the bumps and bruises and of course her swollen ankle. Great.

"I'm so sorry Ginny, are you okay?" said Harry, crawling to her side. His glasses had broken in half and he was smeared with mud.

"Are you okay?" said Ginny, allowing him to help her sit up. "What is wrong with you? Why won't you tell me what's going on?" Tears unwillingly started rolling down her cheeks as anger built inside her.

"I can fix your ankle," he said, pointing at her leg and saying, "_Episkey_." He fixed his glasses as well with a tap of his wand and they sat there, panting.

"Well?" Ginny demanded. She searched his eyes with her own through murky tears. She felt like a small child, sitting on the floor, crying and in pain.

"It's not -"

"It's not nothing!" said Ginny, finally snapping. She scrambled to her feet, stumbling over her ankle a bit, and shoved him. He looked startled and stumbled backwards a few steps. "If it's _nothing_ then you can take this, right? If it's nothing then you wouldn't have _broken_ - _my_ - _bloody_ - _ankle_!" she shouted, puncturing each word with a push.

"Stop it - Ginny!" Harry yelled, putting his arms up to catch her hands in his and pin them down. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have lost control!"

"Lost control?" Ginny laughed meanly. "You nearly passed out and had us killed! You're hurt and you won't tell me what's wrong." She wrenched her hands out of his and wiped her tears roughly. She was angry and upset and her ankle still ached dully.

"Are you still hurt?" he said. "Look at me again." He took her chin in his hand and peered into her eyes. She shook out of his grip.

"I'm fine," she said shortly. "I just need to know if you're okay."

"Okay," said Harry, looking up into the sunlight and squinting. "That night at Hogwarts I gave myself up. I turned myself over to Voldemort. He used the Killing Curse on me, but I obviously survived. He hit me here," he touched the part of his chest that had so recently been paining him, "and it's just been hurting on and off since. Nothing like my scar," he said quickly, noticing the alarm on her face, "I already talked to McGonagall before we left. Curses aren't her specialty, and it's a rare case, but it's just like...a bruise on my body. Inside my body, I guess. I'll be fine. There's no need to worry. I just don't expect it when it hits me."

Ginny stood there a moment longer, then picked up the broom and walked back to the house. She could hear Harry trailing behind her as she reached the broom shed, threw the broomstick in, and slammed the door. She faced him.

"You lied to me," she said quietly. "You said you would always come back, wherever you go. But you gave up. You would have left me. Us. _You_ abandoned _us_."

"I did it for you," said Harry, color rising in his face. "Everything I've done has always been for you, and your future - so you could even have a future! I had to do it."

But Ginny wasn't listening. She was already half walking, half running into the house. She ignored her mother's shouting over the muddy footprints on the floor and went straight to the bathroom where she slammed the door again. She ripped her clothes off and turned the water as hot as it would go, then stood beneath the spray and held her face in her hands.

The water turned brown as the mud washed off her arms. She could hear Harry pounding on the bathroom door but she ignored him, and eventually he went away. She breathed a sigh of relief. When she was finished, she peered out the door and slipped silently into her bedroom where she pulled the covers over her head.

She dreamed of Fred.

He was grinning as he led Ginny into the Forbidden Forest and sat her on the ground. She looked happily up at him, his mischievous eyes, and his flaming red hair. Suddenly she was a little girl and she raised her arms for him to pick her up, but he backed away and pressed a finger to his lips, silencing the cries she hadn't been aware she was making. His face changed, and suddenly Fred became Tonks. She lowered her hand from her heart-shaped and winked at Ginny. Ginny stood up. Tonks took her hand and led her into the forest. Ginny could feel her fingers in her hand, she was so alive - and then the darkness of the forest swallowed them both.

When Ginny woke up, her cheeks were wet with tears. Someone was knocking gently on the door. Harry slipped through the door and shut it behind himself. Hours had passed since that morning; shadows draped themselves across the floor.

He crawled into bed with her, and she had half a mind to push him out, but with the images of her nightmare still flitting through her mind, she allowed him to wrap his arms tight around her; because he could have been dead, and he could have been the one haunting her dreams, not comforting her from them.

"I don't even care to know anymore," Ginny said softly, brushing his hair away from his scar. "I know you did what you had to do. I just wish sometimes it didn't come at such a price."

"I don't care to keep anything from you anymore," he replied.

"Why is everything you say to me a lie?" she said with a sigh. "There will always be secrets. There will always be parts of you I won't understand. Just as there are parts of me that you won't understand." She thought of her maimed back, healing one inch at a time. "It's better that way. You will always be Harry, and I will always be Ginny, and when we are together we'll be something totally different."

"That sounds like a load of waffle, to be honest," said Harry, running his hand along her shoulder and down her arm.

"It's the truth," said Ginny, and she burrowed under the covers and pressed her face to Harry's chest as he squeezed her hand. The images of her dream were descending upon her consciousness in waves that threatened to drown her. Tonks's hand had felt so real. She slipped her hand out of his before she could be swallowed by the eerily realistic dream again.

"Do you ever have nightmares?" she asked softly.

Harry swallowed. "Every night."

She felt incredibly vulnerable, lying under the covers with him. It still felt like a dream - a good dream, being so close to him now, after so long of being apart. The whole past year she had felt so guarded, so defensive, and for good reason. It wasn't easy going back to Hogwarts as Harry's ex-girlfriend. There were parts of her sixth year that she never wanted to tell him, that she didn't even want to think about. The thick skin she had grown ever since Tom Riddle first took her into the Chamber seemed to disappear when she saw Harry - it had first left her that moment she thought she saw him dead in Hagrid's arms. Something in her had broken, and she was first filled with a hollow despair as her father held her up amid the crowd, then an angry fury as she battled Bellatrix, and finally a quiet vulnerability and newness as she sat in the Great Hall with her mother. Her mother, who would be burying one of her children later that week...

"Me too," she said, and they spoke no more.

Fleur brushed Ginny's long hair as she sat on a stool in the middle of the kitchen. She snipped the ends with a tiny pair of scissors, then braided the long strands into a tight plait.

"Zere," said Fleur, patting her on the shoulder. "You are done." Her own silvery mane was twisted into a low bun, and her face looked unusually pinched. She turned to the breakfast table, laden with dishes she had prepared that had yet to be touched.

Ginny tiptoed up the stairs to Ron's bedroom but found her quarry halfway through, in the bathroom, his hands over his head in an attempt to flatten his hair.

"Hello," Harry said awkwardly.

"Here, let me," she said, stepping into the tiny bathroom and lathering her hands with water and gel from inside the mirror cabinet. She ran her fingers through his hair furiously.

"It's probably pointless," he said as Ginny climbed up onto the sink and kneeled so she could better reach the top of his head. "Wow, I'd forgotten how small you are." Their eyes met in the mirror. He looked smart in his black dress robes. Her bare shoulders prickled with goose bumps.

"Oh ha ha," she said scathingly. "I like it this way anyway," she said, and she managed a small smile as it sat in gelled lumps, not quit flat.

They were interrupted by the sudden appearance of Bill in the doorway. Harry immediately jumped back and drew his wand out of surprise; Ginny simply stared unashamed at Bill.

Bill sighed. "Just get out, please."

Ginny slid from the sink and flitted out the door, Harry behind her. He tramped down the stairs to the kitchen and she was about to follow when she heard her name.

"Ginny," Ron hissed, poking his head out from Fred and George's bedroom.

Startled, Ginny slipped into the room after him. He shut the door behind her.

Ginny hadn't been in the room in months, let alone the past few days. It was just as she remembered, cluttered with boxes Weasley Wizarding Wheezes products. The sky outside the window was gray and dismal. George sat in the middle of the room on the threadbare carpet, legs crossed like a kid.

"Hi Georgie," said Ginny, padding over and sitting across from him, careful to tuck her legs under her dress.

George was wearing a white T shirt and a pair of jeans, the hole on the side of his head where his ear had once been as conspicuous as ever. His dress robes lay on the bed in a messy pile. Ron was already wearing his robes, his hair slicked to the side. Ginny guessed Hermione had done that and she raised her eyebrows at him. He rumpled his hair and shrugged as he proceeded to the dresser and began digging through the drawers' contents.

Ginny wanted to prod him to come down and eat the breakfast she knew nobody wanted. She thought about urging him to put on his dress robes. Instead she sighed and said, "Well, I feel like shit. Don't you?"

George looked up at her as he answered, "Absolutely."

Ron didn't seem to be having luck going through the drawers and was progressively getting more and more frustrated, tossing out an odd mixture of clothes, papers, products, and packaging. George stood up joined him, even searching under the beds. Ginny noticed neither of them looked slept in.

"What are we looking for?" asked Ginny as Ron tossed a fake wand out and it bounced once before turning into a rubber toad.

"Fireworks," said Ron. "We need you to help set them off."

"Where? When?"

Ron paused. "Whenever Mum starts crying the hardest," he said thickly.

"Here," said George, pulling out a cardboard box from beneath the floorboard under the bed. "Looks like these ones survived all of Mum's purges." Ginny and Ron clambered next to him as he opened the box and a cloud of dust burst into the air.

"These are ancient," said Ginny, sneezing twice.

"Originals," said George quietly, as though they had found something invaluable and rare, which in this case, they had. "Prototypes. For the ones we set off at school when Umbridge was there. I don't even remember hiding them here. Must have been..." His voice trailed off.

"Fred," Ginny finished for her brother. She shifted over to him and leaned her head on his shoulder.

"I miss him," Ron said finally.

"We all do," Ginny added.

"You know Dad won't look at me?" said George bitterly. "Not that I've been around enough to see anyone."

"Where have you been going?" Ginny asked him.

"Don't worry about it," was all George said. Ron and Ginny looked at each other sadly.

"He just looks at me," George went on, "and sees Fred." He rolled his shoulders and looked directly at Ginny. "What does he think I see in the mirror?"

Tears filled Ginny's eyes, because the moment George had looked at her she had seen Fred. It would take years to stop looking for his familiar figure next to George's, and to stop expecting to hear two voices talking to her, not one. Ron cleared his throat and gathered the box of original fireworks into his arms.

The funeral was quiet and subdued. They stood in a huddle around the open grave in the village of Ottery St. Catchpole, surrounding by remaining members of the Order, and an odd assortment of family and friends. Auntie Muriel was grumbling in the back, while Professor McGonagall stood stiffly off to the side, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief. Angelina Johnson was crying silently into Alicia Spinnet's shoulder. Hagrid could be heard sobbing in the back. Ginny had diligently gone around and greeted everyone earlier, thanking them for coming, smiling warmly even though her insides felt like ice; she knew her mother would want her to show gratitude to everyone who came to support the family and say their goodbyes to Fred.

A raindrop fell on Ginny's cheek and she let it sit there, feeling miserable. The wizard presiding over the short funeral her parents had requested continued speaking over the low rumbles of thunder that made their way through the valley. Another raindrop landed on Ginny's shoulder, and then another few on her head. She saw Harry wipe his glasses dry on his sleeve. Hermione opened an umbrella and Ron held it over her dutifully.

The rain grew heavier as it landed with thick plunks on Hermione's umbrella and various other umbrellas that popped up on the somber crowd. The wizard was still resolutely plowing on, and with a little flare of anger, Ginny realized it was probably because he had dozens more funerals to attend and he wanted to just get through this one as quickly as possible.

She couldn't follow his words and she hadn't really been listening since the moment he started. She glanced sideways at Ron, who was staring at the coffin in the ground with a look of desperation, his face screwed up as tears flowed down his face. His arm holding the umbrella shook, so Ginny held on to the other one tightly. He returned the pressure mildly.

Ginny peered over at George who was standing between their parents. His eyes were closed, like he wasn't listening either. Arthur was gripping Bill's hand on his other side while Molly clung to George as though afraid he would join his twin in the ground.

Aunt Muriel was complaining in the back - "I'm too old for this weather, somebody get me inside" - and leaving to seek shelter in the small church at the entrance to the cemetery. Several others were scattering as well, whether Disapparating or merely running back to the church as the rain began to pelt them. The Weasleys stayed rooted to the spot. Fleur was holding her handbag over her head. Charlie's sopping was hair was plastered to his face, and Percy was shaking with sobs. To her left, Ginny could hear Hermione sniffling over the rain. Harry poked Ginny's back and draped his cloak over her shoulders.

A gust of wind suddenly blew through the graveyard, causing half the remaining audience to shriek as their robes billowed in the cool, wet breeze. The wind brought with it heavier rains, and Ginny caught George's eye. He was crying now, just like their mother beside him, both their tears hidden by the rain, but his mouth was split into a wide grin.

Without a second thought, Ginny pulled out the fireworks she had stuffed in her large black purse, and within a minute they were blasting off with a bang into the dark gray sky. Showers of fiery red sparklers, blazing blue dragons, vivid green glitters, and bright yellow shooting stars were rocketing across the sky. The small crowd screamed and scattered at the explosion as the blast sent Ginny tumbling backward to the ground, bringing both Ron and Harry, who stood on either side of her, down as well. Several people screamed her name, her mother included; Ginny was laughing so hard as rain splashed her face and she could see stars in her eyes, whether it was from hitting her head on the ground or Fred's last fireworks above her, she didn't know nor care. She could hear Ron half laughing, half crying as Hermione stepped over him to pull her to her feet.

Ginny allowed Hermione to drag her upwards and she stood back, letting the rain fall into her face as she looked up and admired the glorious colors lighting up morning.

"What were you thinking?" Hermione shrieked. Her hair was coming undone from the tight bun Fleur had pinned it into that morning.

"It's brilliant!" shouted Ron over the rain, shaking his sister's arm. There was another bang and Ron and Ginny ducked, although they soon realized it was another set of fireworks - the dragons the twins had debuted in their last year at Hogwarts. They turned and Ginny saw Katie and Angelina with their wands pointed up; they had set it off. Their fireworks were immediately followed by several explosions; Harry had thrown a handful of decoy detonators and they were scurrying everywhere and exploding in muddy fury.

It was utter chaos, and right in the middle of it was George, glowing in the light of the fireworks. Ginny thought she saw his mouth move; she could have sworn he was saying, "Goodbye Fred."

It was certainly the words on her own lips as she pressed a kiss to her hand and held it up as the last of the fireworks faded away.

That night the Burrow was quiet, and for the first time since the war had ended and they came home, everyone would be in their beds. Except Fred, Ginny thought ruefully. As everyone slowly turned in and head off to bed, Ginny stayed behind until it was just her and her mother left in the living room.

"I wonder," said Molly quietly, staring into the dying fire, "where you go when you die."

Ginny didn't answer but clutched her mug of hot chocolate tighter in her hands. "I suppose you go onto the next big adventure, wherever that may be."

"I hope Freddie is with my brothers," said Molly, and Ginny thought she saw the little girl behind her mother's eyes. "I hope they're all together now."

Tears glistened in her eyes and she hastily wiped them away.

"I know they are," said Ginny as her throat constricted. She sat next to her mother and the two of them sat in silence broken only by the crackling fire.

"Life isn't fair," Molly went on thickly. "It wasn't fair to Gideon or Fabian, and it certainly wasn't fair to Fred. I tried to keep you children safe, and I failed."

She bowed her head and Ginny gripped her arm.

"That's not true," she said fiercely. "You did your best, and you didn't fail. You didn't fail."

"Molly?"

Arthur was standing in the doorway clutching the clock in his hands. Something inside Ginny dropped.

"I thought you'd be in bed by now, Ginny," said her father, frowning.

"It's alright," said Molly, beckoning her husband forward. He sat on Ginny's other side with the clock on his lap. It was the one that did not tell time, but instead the hands were each labeled with one of the Weasleys and told where they were. Everyone's was on home, except Fred's, which was still on mortal peril.

"It's time to take Fred off," said Arthur quietly while Molly's tears started afresh. He waved his wand and the hand with Fred's name on it fell off. Ginny caught it before it clattered to the floor. She pressed it into her mother's hands and the three of them sat in silence.

"I know he's with them," said Ginny, trailing off on where their conversation had last ended. She kissed her parents goodnight and made her way to her bedroom. Hermione was already asleep. She quietly closed the curtains without looking outside. The pearly face figure had been pushed from her mind with all the day's activities, but she had no desire to see it now. She climbed into bed and lay awake for a long time before drifting off to sleep.

She dreamed of Fred again.

They were at the Quidditch pitch at Hogwarts, flying in laps round and round. Fred was grinning, and egging Ginny on to fly faster and faster. She urged her broomstick on, leaning low to keep up, but he was getting farther and farther away. They were soon soaring over the dark trees of the Forbidden Forest, thestrals gliding beneath them. Fred turned around and waved at Ginny, and before she could do so much as call out his name, he had spurted off into the distance and was swallowed by the darkness.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Thank you to all my reviewers and readers! It's been a while so here is a heftier chapter than usual. After this one, things will pick up a little bit more. Enjoyyyyy.

Chapter 5

The week that followed Fred's funeral was the longest of Ginny's life.

There were so many funerals to attend, so many cemeteries to stand in, so many tears in the warm summer sun. It was impossible to go to each and every one, though Harry made an effort to do so until one night the air was rent with his nightmarish screams that woke the whole house. It was a night that would take Ginny a long time to forget. His shouts woke her from her own fitful sleep, and she and Hermione raced to the attic bedroom, the rest of the family close behind, only to find Harry thrashing in his bed and Ron standing fearfully over him, trying to wake him. When Harry finally did open his eyes fully, and see the Weasleys and Hermione crowded around him, watching him sadly, his eyes grew wet and he buried his face in his hands. His breaths were short and harsh, and he apologized profusely, but Molly simply sat down on his camp bed and pulled him into her arms. Ginny had to turn away so that even in the darkness, no one would see the tears filling her own eyes. She hated to see him suffer.

Harry stopped attending the funerals after that.

He did manage to go to Remus and Tonks', which was held on a bright sunny day that conflicted horribly with the emotions Ginny knew they were all feeling. Thought there was no body, Ted Tonks was included in the ceremony. It was possibly the worst funeral of the lot. Little Teddy Lupin, however, smiled serenely through the whole affair, his hair changing steadily from pink to turquoise to purple as his mother and father were laid to rest. He had no idea what was happening; he did not even remember whom he was saying goodbye to. That thought cut through Ginny harder than anything, and she had to bite back more tears as she reached out to stroke his fist while Harry held him. Teddy cooed happily and his hair turned a soft ginger similar to Ginny's. Harry and Ginny laughed, and Ginny's eyes caught Harry's as he looked up, the green onto the brown. Ginny's heart soared, and she slept peacefully that night for the first time in days.

Life seemed like it was returning to normal, and yet nothing was the same. George had not yet returned to his flat in Diagon Alley; his solitary figure flitting in and out of the Burrow was so foreign and Ginny knew it would take years for them to get used to the sight of him standing alone. Bill and Fleur were at the Burrow more often than not. Percy was there too, unusually quiet at times and missing his infamous pompous scowl. Ron and Hermione bickered as usual, an endearingly annoying sound.

And then there was Harry. He was there in the stairwell in the morning, sitting next to her at dinner time, staring meekly into the fireplace in the evening, and then poking his head into her bedroom while Hermione used the bathroom, just so he could quickly kiss her goodnight. And he was there again the next day to do it all over again.

It ought to have been a celebration, their return to the Burrow and their freedom from Voldemort's regime, but the days were filled with a thick silence that seemed never ending. They had spent the last couple months all living together in Auntie Muriel's, rarely leaving each other's company, and now they were suddenly separated. Arthur and Percy had returned to the Ministry, Bill to Gringotts (which was in a right state thanks to Harry, Ron, and Hermione's escapade into the depths of the bank earlier that month), and Charlie to Romania. Harry and Ron were shadowing Kingsley, eager to do their part in rounding up Death Eaters and sorting out the general chaos that Britain had been left in. Hermione was working with Ministry officials to work on integrating Muggle-borns back into wizard society, recovering wands that had been taken under the Muggle-born Registration Committee. Ginny supposed it was easier for them to stay active rather than wallow in the misery of funeral after funeral. The only ones who weren't returning to normal were Molly and George.

George disappeared at all hours of the day and night, returning in a curious state each time. Sometimes he had a vague expression, like he didn't quite know where he was; other times he smelled strongly of firewhiskey; and still other times he wore a mean scowl and refused to speak with or look at anybody. When he inadvertently caught Ginny's eye, something within them softened, and she longed to follow him up to his room and beg him to come back out, but for once in her life, she didn't feel like trying anymore.

Her mother, on the other hand, had taken to following Ginny all over the house in a shadow-like frenzy. Ginny supposed Molly was just being overprotective, or maybe she just didn't want to be alone in the too-familiar, too-empty house. Ginny didn't have the heart to tell her mother to leave her alone; perhaps she wanted the company just as much as Molly did, but she didn't want to admit it.

There were good days and bad days, long days and even longer ones. There were days when Ginny sat in the cherry blossom tree so long her legs ached, just to escape the terrible loneliness of the Burrow. She wasn't allowed to go to the Ministry, at least until things had slowed down a little more. Truthfully, she didn't have much desire to anyway. She didn't want to chase anymore bad guys, or see the faces of people who had lost so much. She couldn't remember the last time she had felt so listless.

She was exhausted when she went to sleep at night, and it took every bit of energy inside her to get out of bed each morning. The pain was almost too real, almost physically crippling her from pulling herself from the tangled sheets when she woke up, and every day she had to convince herself to plaster a smile on her increasingly pale face. Just get through this week, she would tell herself each morning as she pulled on the same black dress over and over again for yet another funeral or wake. Just get through one more day...

Ron and Hermione departed for Australia shortly after the long tirade of funerals ended. Ginny was jealous of their escape; she longed to do the same, pack up her bags and leave everything behind, if only for a short while. She was envious of the fact that Hermione could spend so much time with Ron, away from the prying eyes of the Burrow.

Kingsley helped make special arrangements for the two to take a series of portkeys to Australia, and he had even gone to the trouble of putting an Auror on the team to track down the exact town the Grangers had settled in under the guise of Wendell and Monica Wilkins. Ron and Hermione, along with Harry, passed their Apparition tests in the morning and were scheduled to set out at noon.

Molly dissolved into tears yet again as they said their farewells in the kitchen at the Burrow.

"Please take care," she said, sniffling into Ron's shoulder as she hugged him tightly. "I just wish you weren't going too far, who knows if it's safe or not..."

"Exactly, you think I'm going to let Hermione go by herself?" said Ron with what he apparently thought was bravado. Hermione rolled her eyes and Harry smirked.

"We'll be fine," Hermione said nonetheless as Molly hugged her as well. "We'll be in and out of Australia in no time. I promise. Then I'll just want to get Mum and Dad settled in at home."

Ron beckoned to Ginny discreetly and pulled her away out of the kitchen.

"What?" she said suspiciously.

"I almost wish I wasn't leaving," Ron started, glancing towards the kitchen again, "but I can't let Hermione go by herself."

He paused, and then when Ginny didn't say anything, he continued, "I'm worried about -"

"Harry, yes, I know, me too," Ginny cut in, looking out the window to avoid looking into Ron's eyes. "After that night..."

"No, I'm worried about you," said Ron bluntly.

Ginny started. "I'm almost seventeen, Ron, I don't need you looking out for me," she said coolly.

"I know this past year has been rough on you...on all of his," he added as Ginny quelled him with a look reminiscent of their mother. "We should be sticking together right now, you, me, and George especially. It's been hard, planning this trip and trying to be there for Kingsley and everyone else too. I want to do my part, but I feel like I haven't been spending any time with you."

"I'm okay, Ron, really, but I will look after George while you're not here," she said, steering him back towards the kitchen, eager to end the conversation. She kissed him briefly on the cheek, hugged Hermione tightly, and then disappeared up the stairs to her bedroom.

The truth was, she did miss Ron. As annoying as he was, their relationship had always been on and off, getting along fine one month and detesting each other the next. That was the nature of such brothers and sisters who had grown up so closely together.

As much as she hated to admit it at times, Ron knew her better than most other people. He knew what made her tick, what her favorite jam was, what color cat she had a weakness for. He knew to give her pajamas for Christmas and to leave her alone when she cried. He knew how much she had sulked after she and Harry split up last summer.

She did feel neglected by Ron. She missed her older brother.

Ginny surveyed her bedroom walls with an odd expression on her face. There were her posters, her cluttered desk, some clothes littering the floor...she had not fully unpacked since she came home. The sun was warm on her face and the air was summery. She had put on a pair of frayed denim shorts that Molly heavily disapproved of and her long hair was piled on top of her head. She flicked on the little radio on the desk and a rock song she hadn't heard in months came on.

It irked her somehow, and without a second thought she stepped forward and ripped the huge poster on the Weird Sisters down from the wall. The band members silently protested as she folded it up and gave Gwenog Jones the same treatment, tucking the papers away into the trash bin. She stripped the wall of the Gryffindor banner Dean had drawn for her one year. She swept the silly clutter of the desk into the bin as well, and then tore through her clothes, throwing away the most worn and folding away the ones she would keep. The jeans and sweater she had been wearing the night Fred died went in the garbage too.

When she was done, the room looked oddly blank, but brighter so. From her trunk, Ginny pulled out the last few things she treasured beyond everything else. Some newspaper articles, including the one about her family winning the gold and vacationing in Egypt. The article Harry had given for the Quibbler. A photograph of her and Bill as children. And another one of her, Ron, Hermione, and Harry, taken at the end of her fifth year in the Gryffindor common room. She looked so happy there, her eyes glinting, her mouth open in laughter, her arms around Harry. One of Harry's arm was around her waist, the other around Hermione's shoulder, who was laughing too, her head occasionally dropping onto Ron's shoulder, whose one arm was around her waist, looking sheepish but pleased all the same. Harry looked simply at peace, his smile soft and his eyes glowing, like he had everything he wanted in the world right there with him.

Those last few weeks had been so glorious, so golden, the stolen moments in the corridor and the grounds and the common room on sunny afternoons much like this one now. Ginny placed the articles in a drawer on her desk, and she taped photographs to the small space of wall next to her head board where she could see them easily.

"What happened to your posters?"

Ginny's hand slipped and she cut her thumb of the serrated edge of the Spellotape as George slunk into the room.

"I didn't like them anymore," she said shortly, sparing him a fleeting glance before she finished her taping job and stood back to admire her work.

"Oh." He brushed his hand over the blank walls. "It's so empty now."

"I like it that way." Ginny watched him move around the room, surveying the blank corners like he had never been in there before.

"Nice pictures," he said, peering down to inspect the photographs she had just taped up. "Poor Hermione. She has no idea what she's getting herself into with ickle Ronniekins."

"I'm just enjoying this brief peace they're practicing before they start to get on each other's nerves again," said Ginny, dropping down onto her bed and stretching out. George did the same on Hermione's camp bed.

Neither of them spoke for a few seconds, and the silence felt thick and cold. It was like Fred's absence was a hunk of ice between them, but she peered over and saw George had his eyes closed almost in contentment. She relaxed a little. If he was calm, then she could be so too.

"I need to get out of this house," George spoke to the ceiling.

"Isn't that what you've been doing all week?"

"I mean right now. It's hot and stuffy and Mum is breathing down my neck since Ron left."

"No one is stopping you."

"Why aren't you stopping me?"

"Because I'm envious," Ginny said without pausing to think, "and I'm not taking that away from you."

She swallowed and turned the radio up louder.

"So come with me," said George, swinging his feet onto the floor and sitting up. He smiled at her for the first time in days.

It was Wednesday. It had been a full week since they buried Fred. Ginny swallowed thickly again.

She threw her arms into a sweater and followed George down the steps, out the back door, around to the side of the house. Ginny kept glancing around, waiting for Molly to shriek and stop her from taking one more step, yet she didn't appear.

George led her out to the main road and then down the country lane towards the village. Ginny trotted beside him, her long hair dancing behind her.

"I thought we'd be Apparating," she said to him.

George shrugged. "Sometimes I Apparate and then just walk. It helps, to keep moving, even if I'm not going anywhere."

"I haven't been to the village in ages. Except for the funeral."

"I think I'm becoming a regular," George replied, shielding his eyes from the sun as it burned through the morning haze.

Silence fell between them, broken only by the sounds of their shoe on the dirt road. The grass was a vibrant green thanks to the recent rain storms. Weeds and wildflowers had sprouted meekly where the grass met the edge of the road. Ginny scooped up a frail little purple wildflower and twirled it in the breeze.

They walked on; Ginny didn't know the time, and she didn't want to ask George where they were going. Perhaps they were walking just to walk. But eventually they found paved roads, and cars were passing them as they entered the village of Ottery St. Catchpole, and they were about to pass the cemetery until George turned them down an alleyway.

George led her into a dark and shadowy pub on the corner of the block. It was empty, but they went straight to the far end of the bar and sat down.

"Is this place even open?" Ginny asked, wrapping her arms around herself and peering around the dusty place.

"Er, sort of. Not really, I guess. Oi," he said to the man who had just walked in from the back room. "Whiskey for me, please."

"Morning, George," the man said, his eyes on Ginny. "Isn't she a little young to be in here?"

"So give her a pop or whatever it is kids these days drink," said George, downing his drink the second it was poured and holding it out for a second. Ginny did not smile, and Herb gave her a pitying look.

"I'll just have a tea, please," said Ginny, frowning slightly. She rounded on George. "Isn't it a little early for this?"

"I'm an early riser."

Herb came back with a mug of black tea and set it down in front of Ginny; he left the bottle of whiskey there too. George was watching her too now. "You know I'm not going to snitch on you if you have a drink. These Muggles will sell their stuff to anyone."

"You would never snitch to begin with," Ginny replied with a faint smile on her lips. "And we're a little old to be tattling on each other."

"Fair enough," said George. He poured a healthy measure of whiskey into his glass and pushed it towards Ginny. She raised her eyebrows.

"Now," said George, "I have a few questions for you. Are you currently dating Harry or not?"

Ginny spluttered into her tea. "Is that why you invited me along? So you could interrogate me about my love life?"

"So you are dating him again," said George, grinning at her.

"It's none of your business," said Ginny coolly, tossing her hair over her shoulder and looking determinedly away from George's eyes.

"Okay, okay, just thought I'd try and get to know my baby sister, that's all," said George, pulling his glass back and drinking from it again. "It's just, you've been disappearing almost as much as I have, and if you're running off with Harry I'd like to know so I can -"

"So you can what?" said Ginny hotly, rounding on him. "Follow us? Intimidate him? Do you know I'm the reason no one's been following when you leave anymore? That I've been holed up at home with Mum crying her eyes out while you've been free to do whatever you please while Harry continues to play the hero and leaves me at home?"

They sat in silence again. The pub had officially opened and several older men tinkered in, sitting on the opposite end of the bar. Ginny turned away so they wouldn't see her eyes glistening.

"And I haven't been disappearing," she added quietly so Herb, who had returned to get drinks for the newcomers, could not hear her. "I haven't left the yard at all."

George let out a long sigh. "You're not Mum's baby-sitter. She'll be fine on her own," he said at last.

"Like you?" Ginny laughed. "What is it, eleven in the morning? How long do you sit here? How far do you walk in circles before you get tired an Apparate home?"

"Long enough," said George, pouring more into his glass again and downing it. "I'm not going to fight with you on this, Ginny."

Silence fell between them again. Then something dawn on Ginny.

"Ron told you to look out for me, didn't he?"

George didn't reply, he just poured another drink and pushed it toward her.

Her insides her. Her throat burned, her eyes burned, everything ached and the desire to cry and let it all fall out threatened to overcome her. She missed Fred. George didn't want her there with him, he wanted Fred, and that thought made her feel incredibly lonely.

"You're a terrible influence," she said thickly.

He turned and looked at her, and as usual she felt the small shock through her body that she was looking at Fred, not George. But Fred didn't have dark circles under his eyes, and Fred certainly didn't frown like this.

"We're just having fun today," he said, leaning over and fishing another glass out from behind the bar. "It's better to be in misery with someone than in misery alone."

He laughed, and Ginny smiled through her watery eyes. "Ah, I take that back. Better to not fuck up everyone else around you. Is that the right answer?"

Ginny didn't want to agree, though she secretly did. She also didn't want to go home and sit in her empty room while her mother prowled the house, mourning Fred. So she picked up the glass, clinked it with George's, and swallowed the bitterness.

Hours later, George walked Ginny back to the house, but he didn't go inside with her; he Disapparated, saluting her with a wink that tugged on his whole face.

Ginny stumbled through the front door and made a beeline for the staircase. Her head was spinning and she wasn't sure whether she wanted to laugh, cry, or throw up the weak tea and strong whiskey in her stomach.

"Ginny!"

She slipped and hit her forehead on the stair, cursing out loudly. Spitting her hair out of her mouth, she rounded on her mother who stood in the kitchen doorway with Harry, open-mouthed and white-faced.

"Where have you been?" she screamed, but there was more than anger and disappointment in her voice. Harry was staring at her, but she found she couldn't make eye contact with him, her head was swimmingly so wildly.

"I was with George," Ginny mumbled, turning back and stomping up the stairs. She slammed her door shut and threw off her sweater, knocking a neat stack of books over with her flailing arms. Molly opened the door with a bang, Harry trailing behind her.

"Mum, please go away," Ginny pleaded, sinking to her bed and letting her head fall into her hands.

"YOU CANNOT JUST DISAPPEAR WITHOUT TELLING ANYONE WHERE YOU'RE GOING!" Molly bellowed. "You're only sixteen! We were worried sick, about to call your father, go out searching for you -"

"I'm not a child!" Ginny stood up quickly and faced her mother. "You don't know the things that I've done or seen or been through - I've proven myself more than capable and if I want to walk outside my own front door for a minute than you can be damn sure I will! You can't protect me every second of the day!"

"Nobody said you're not capable of taking care of yourself," Harry interjected, stepping up swiftly and placing a hand on Molly's arm, which was shaking.

"Do you have any idea how worried we were? Do you realize what you just did to us?" Molly shouted, and she dropped onto Hermione's bed and began to sob into her hands.

"Mum," Ginny mumbled, trying to collect her thoughts, but her brain was still hazy. It was all too much. She stood up and pushed past Harry to the bathroom and slammed the door shut behind her, then leaned against the door and slowly slid to the floor. Her hands were bloody from her forehead and she wiped them on her denim jeans, feeling foolish more like a little girl than she cared to admit.

"Ginny! Open the door," Harry bellowed, pounding on the door and rattling her skull. She unlocked it and Harry walked in, pulling her into his arms.

"Why can't I just be somewhere else," Ginny mumbled as Harry inspected the cut above her eyebrow.

"You've been drinking," he replied with a frown. "You should clean up before you go talk with your mum."

"Now you're going to treat me like a little kid too?" Ginny scoffed as he held out her toothbrush and ran the bath water for her. She blinked as he hesitated in the doorway.

"I was worried, too," he said, and he gently closed the door on her, leaving her alone again.


End file.
